Scrapbooking
by Luinia
Summary: When Hawkeye heads out to the firing range, Roy Mustang is up to no good - as always - and finds a something in her desk that none of the men would've guessed she possessed - a scrapbook.


_Disclaimer: If FMA was mine, the series would've ended with a wedding picture instead of a horrid mustache._

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><p>"She really was a cute kid," Havoc commented, leaning a little further over the colonel's shoulder to get a closer look at the candid photo.<p>

It was a hot and sticky July day and none of the men wanted to be bothered with the mountainous pile of paperwork that was now being pushed onto the floor by the crowd of men around Colonel Mustang's desk. It was edging eerily close to the paper shredder. Mustang sighed and pushed Havoc's face out of the way.

"Personal space, Havoc. It's too hot," he complained, flipping the page of the scrapbook. Of course, this wasn't just _any _scrapbook that the team had found.

It belonged to Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, of course.

It was a compilation of several pictures from her youth - the days leading up to his apprenticeship at the Hawkeye household. It was a welcome change to see her smiling face plastered from page to page, even if it was a long-lost and innocent Hawkeye in a little girl's body.

Furey, of course, was nervous. This had all began about a half an hour ago, when the Lieutenant had announced that she was heading down to the firing range to practice up for the examinations next week. Roy, being the devil that he is, immediately got around to snooping through her desk, a habit that he'd gotten a few rounds fired off at him before because of.

The raven haired private was standing timidly a foot or two away from the Colonel's desk, fearing the very real possibility that Riza would march in at any moment and start shooting at them.

Roy flipped the page again. "Hmm," he observed. There was a picture of a five year old Riza holding hands with her father and laughing near the lakeside, her mother watching them coyly from a beach chair. She looked pale and sickly; this was probably near the end of the happy times at the Hawkeye household.

"What is it, chief?" Havoc inquired.

"Nothing. I just don't remember Berthold ever being fond of water," he mumbled, more to himself than to any of the members of his team.

"Berthold?" Breda asked.

The Colonel sighed. "Lieutenant Hawkeye's father," he said lazily, taking another glance at the photograph. Was that his imagination or was there part of a familiar-looking thumb over the edge of the lens? He almost grinned to himself. Grumman; what an…interesting old man.

"You knew Hawkeye's father?" Furey asked, edging a little closer to the picture album. Havoc's eyes went wide; perhaps his two superiors were a little bit more than two old war buddies. _How far back do they go together?_

"I was his apprentice," he mumbled absently. "I _did _live at his house for a year or two," he told them. Falman's jaw dropped, Breda looked hungry for more information (Or perhaps a sandwich), Furey was frightened and Havoc looked like a man that was about to win a bet.

Roy flipped the page again. Black. She was in dark clothing and clutching her father's pant leg. In the corner of the picture, he could see a tombstone. He gulped. This must've been when her mother had died. Riza nor Berthold had ever talked about her, and Roy had always assumed that the late Mrs. Hawkeye had died before Riza was old enough to remember anything, or had died in childbirth.

But this Riza was at least four or five years old. Breda broke the silence. "I didn't know her mother was dead," he commented.

"Her father, too," Roy said in a gentle voice. He hesitantly allowed his eyes to drift to the opposite page. In all honesty, he didn't expect many other pictures. Berthold fell into a deep depression after his wife died and it was doubtful that he was going to be taking any more pictures of his child.

"I didn't know that," Falman commented. "She's…she's very strong."

"She is," Roy agreed. The picture on the opposite page surprised Roy more than anyone. It was a picture of Madame Christmas, his foster mother, conversing with Riza's father.

Riza must've been hiding from them in the balcony overlooking their living room. He hadn't realized that he was gaping until Havoc nudged his shoulder.

"Who's that, chief?"

"My aunt," he commented, still a little shocked. He'd always wondered how he became so fortunate as to get out of his aunt's bar and receive an alchemical education by Berthold. He remembered that week well. On Friday, Madame Christmas left and told him to 'be good or else,' and that she'd be back by Monday. And she was. She came into the bar and simply placed an envelope into his hands. 'Don't you _dare _cause any trouble for this nice man,' she told him.

That was it. He, somehow, found a little more respect that he had previously had for his foster mother. She was always very good to him, but this - this was the cake topper. She went out of her way to find him Berthold, and for that, he was eternally grateful. He mentally told himself to pay her a visit.

"Your…aunt?"

"Yeah, yeah. Enough with the questions," he told them, flipping the page again. The next page was even more surprising than the last.

It was a picture of him. His eyes went wide. He was about fifteen years old and looking very nervous. Standing outside of the Hawkeye house, Roy supposed that Riza must've chosen her vantage point wisely; she was well prepared for his arrival and had probably sat on that old roof for awhile, just waiting to get the perfect shot of him.

And people thought it odd that she was a sniper.

The rest of that page and the opposite page were both filled with picture of him taken through half-open doors and off of balconies where there was no way that he could have possibly known that he had the only Hawkeye child practically stalking him. It didn't make him feel uneasy, though. She always _was _an odd one.

"Someone's got a stalker," Breda commented under his breath.

"Looks like the lieutenant had a crush on you!" Havoc said, roaring with laughter. Falman grinned to himself and Roy's cheeks went a suspicious shade of pink.

"Of course she did. I _am _Roy Mustang. Besides, I was three years _older _than her. Any girl would have a secret crush on an older guy."

He flipped the page, only to find a picture of himself and Riza kissing underneath a tree. He went bright red. _Who the hell could have taken this?'_

Berthold. Suspicious, wasn't it, that a month after this kiss he'd finished his training? He must've been about eighteen, she fifteen.

"Secret crush, huh?" Breda joked.

"You and Hawkeye kissed before?" Havoc asked, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Roy slammed the scrapbook shut and stood up, his face bright red. "Get back to work and shut _up!"_

"That seems a little harsh coming from you, Colonel," a smooth feminine voice said from the doorway, armed with paperwork and a gun, no doubt. The blonde saluted, walked toward her superior's desk and dropped a stack of papers on his desk.

She was about to go and sit at her own desk when a book caught her eyes. "Colonel," she said in a reprimanding tone. "What is that?" She pointed a finger at the book accusingly.

Roy could feel perspiration building across his forehead. "Uh…nothing! Just a book I borrowed from Sheska, is all. Don't worry about it," he said, offering his signature smirk, hoping that Riza would forget about it.

"Might I borrow it?"

Mustang blanched. "N-no. I'm not done reading it, yet, Lieutenant."

Riza dropped the act and drew her gun from her holster, pointing it at none other than Kain Furey. The men all groaned. Their cover was as good as blown now. The lieutenant didn't even have to ask the question for the private to start blubbering explanations and apologies.

After Kain had managed to calm down slightly, the blonde turned to look at Roy with venomous eyes. He sighed and handed the scrapbook over to her, not bothering to put up a fight with the frightening lieutenant. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "We were just curious."

She sighed, closing her eyes slightly. "Do not _ever _snoop through my things ever again," she said, pointing her gun at Mustang briefly, and then flickering it over to the men. "And if _you _men continue to encourage him, I'll be getting used to an empty office. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" All the men cried. Roy just smirked and laid back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

Riza ignored this, going back to her desk and possessively hugging the scrapbook to her chest, sighing slightly and closing her eyes once before returning to her paperwork. She hoped that they hadn't gotten to the picture of her and the colonel's kiss. She certainly shouldn't have had that picture in the first place; she found it while rummaging through her father's possessions after he died and against her better judgment, decided to keep it for nostalgic reasons.

The innocence of childhood was something that Riza would never now take for granted.

The rest of the day began to pass smoothly; none of the men dared to utter a word against the clearly on-edge lieutenant. Not even Roy, the troublemaker that he is. Time seemed transparent to Riza; it was nearing sundown when the rest of her subordinates had left, and she was still ignorant to this fact.

"Hawkeye?" Roy's voice sounded gently, causing Riza to lift her eyes towards the colonel. She was more surprised than anything that outside, the sun was setting. _Have I really been doing paperwork for that long? _She almost shuddered at the thought of losing track of time because of _paperwork. _

"Yes, sir?" She glanced around. The other men had all gone, leaving just her and a certain raven-haired colonel in the large office. She gulped.

Alone.

I'd been awhile since it was just the colonel and her in a room by themselves. Of course it happened, but after Ishval, things we're so formal between them that there wasn't any room for unprofessional thoughts or interactions between them.

Riza almost scoffed. Like being in a room alone with Roy Mustang _at work _was an unprofessional scenario. _It's not unprofessional at all, _she told herself.

_Then why does it feel so…wrong? _

Roy smiled down at her. "The other men have gone home already. Are you going to be here all night?"

Riza's eyes flickered down at the mound of paperwork that she'd yet to do - or rather, that Roy had yet to do and she was being forced to do because of his negligence. It _was _due tomorrow, after all. Someone had to do it.

"Probably, sir. There's still a lot to do."

"Hm," he commented.

"Aren't you leaving?" She asked, noticing his wavering steps.

"You _are _doing my paperwork," he commented. "Here," Roy said, grabbing half of her paperwork. "I'll help. It'll go faster."

"This is unlike you," she muttered, though not entirely ungrateful, she was certainly suspicious of his actions. _Perhaps he feels bad about earlier. _This time she really _did _scoff. _Roy Mustang? Sorry? Unlikely._

"Something wrong, Lieutenant?" He asked from his desk.

Riza shook her head. "Of course not, sir. Just talking to myself." She said the last bit a little quieter; there was nothing that Mustang wouldn't pick on her for and she was currently bracing herself for his uncanny (and mostly unfunny) humor.

Silence.

The only sound that could be heard was the scratching of pens and the shuffle of papers from the in to the out box. Hawkeye was more than surprised that Roy had decided to keep a silence between them; he was usually nonstop talk.

It was nice, to say the least.

"Hawkeye?"

If only for a few minutes.

"Yes, sir?"

"Why do you have that scrapbook? Did you make it?"

_Of course, _she thought to herself. _To think he was really here to help on paperwork. _Riza sighed. "No, sir. My grandfather made it for me after I graduated the academy."

"Grumman?"

"Yes, sir."

Roy paused for a minute, leaning back in his chair and resting his chin between his thumb and forefinger. _Explains why he's always asking me to marry her. _He observed Riza carefully, smiling. Roy chuckled under his breath.

"Something funny, sir?"

"Nothing. Just piecing together some information."

"Information, sir?"

"Just some things your grandfather says to me. Nothing to worry about, Hawkeye."

Riza chuckled underneath her breath. "I take it that he makes the same requests to you as he does to me, then."

Roy gaped. "You mean…you mean he tells you that you ought to marry me?"

"Frequently, sir."

"Relentless old bastard. I take it you said no?"

Riza paused for a moment, drinking in the silence and the clear distress her awaited answer was causing her superior. Roy was sitting on the edge of his seat, practically gripping his desk for support.

"He didn't give me the impression that my consent was necessary; only yours. And I take it that _you've _said no, judging by the fact that we're not engaged, sir."

Roy leaned over his desk, picking up his pen once again and turning his attention to paperwork for a few seconds. "I told him that he was rushing things," he said.

Riza's eyes went wide for a few seconds. Slowly, she regained her composure, a small smile lighting her lips. "Rushing things?"

He grinned back at her. "One day, I think I'll take Grumman up on his offer," he mumbled absentmindedly. "But for now…I think I'll be satisfied that you still keep pictures of me."

"Colonel!"

"What? Can't a man tease his fiancée?"

"I don't remember accepting any proposals!"

"You just said you didn't think your consent was necessary…" Roy trailed off, a smirk coming to his lips.

Riza silently fumed, turning her head back to her paperwork. "You're insufferable."

"Oh, come on. Would it really be that bad being married to me?"

She contemplated the question for a minute before answering. She smirked. Two could play this game. "Of course it would, sir. You probably don't know how to do laundry or cook for yourself. I bet your bed is unmade and you haven't taken the trash out in a few weeks. I bet you don't even clean the bathroom regularly!"

Roy's cheeks went red and Riza's eyes went wide. She was only _joking. _Or so she thought.

"Sir? You…you really _don't _do all those things?" The surprise in her voice was unmistakable.

He grumbled, crossed his arms, and turned away from Riza. "I do too," he mumbled unconvincingly.

Riza sighed, standing up and sorting the last of the paperwork. She marched over to Roy's desk and grabbed his wrist. "Come on, sir," she told him in a defiant voice, leading him towards the door.

"Where are we going?" "To your house, sir. You _need _to learn how to clean up after yourself. I'm _not _doing it for you!"

He smirked, following behind her. "So does that mean you'll marry me?"

Hawkeye titled her chin upwards. "I'm just a concerned woman who values a tidy home."

"But?"

She smirked. "You're rushing things."


End file.
